


The things you said on (the phone) at 4am

by Qualitativeadjective



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 17:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19155826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qualitativeadjective/pseuds/Qualitativeadjective
Summary: Continuation of moving all of my fics from Tumblr to here. This is the first fic I ever published so I was a debating on whether to move it over or not.





	1. Chapter 1

Pippa:

It’s Pippa who cracks first. It’s been weeks since the disaster that was supposed to be their doubles performance, weeks since Hecate has even glanced in Pippa’s direction let alone spoken to her.

She tried, tried so hard to speak to her; to ask why, to try to understand the reasoning behind why she hadn’t turned up to something they had worked so hard on, something she knew Pippa found so important. She’d thought it had been nerves at first, when she hadn’t shown, but as the time ticked by she grew worried thinking something had happened to Hecate, because surely that was the only explanation for why she’d miss this.

Her relief at seeing Hecate alive and well, after Miss Spellman had said that they really couldn’t wait any more for Hecate, had solidified into anger and confusion, as Hecate suddenly and steadfastly refused to even acknowledge her presence let alone give her an explanation for her lack of appearance.   
In the end she gave her space, accepted that this was perhaps what she needed, but had always expected her to come back to her with an apology, and even more with an explanation as to why she suddenly started treating her as a stranger.

And then they’d reached graduation, a day she’d looked forward to her entire life, tainted by the fact Hecate still hadn’t said anything and the continued silence from her former best friend, now they’ve left, is deafening, and she still just doesn’t understand.

It’s this lack of understanding, combined with Pippa being admittedly slightly tipsy, that leads to her sitting in front of her mirror one night and perhaps somewhat recklessly calling Hecate.

Hecate doesn’t answer, and Pippa doesn’t know if this is because she has severed the connection or is asleep, she chooses to believe the latter; it’s less painful than the probable truth.

Pippa is left staring at her reflection and begins talking before her brain can catch up to her mouth, and tell her that this, truthfully, is a terrible idea. “Hecate this is ridiculous” she sighs “I miss you” she admits before trying to gather her thoughts. “I was so looking forward to our performance, not because I knew we’d walk the competition” she smiles ruefully “but because it was fun. I enjoyed spending so much time with you… and truthfully, I thought you did too. I’m not mad… I just want to know why Hiccup. Did I do something?”.

Her face scrunches in confusion for a moment and she looks away “we had so many plans” she whispers almost to herself, and then comes to her eyes hardening somewhat as she looks back at her reflection. “This isn’t fair. I deserve an explanation Hic- Hecate!”.

It’s this exclamation that makes her suddenly stop, stare at her reflection and ultimately delete the message, sever the connection. 

She thinks about her last statement and decides there and then, that if she isn’t even worth an explanation then clearly Hecate never believed their friendship to be as important as she did, thanks the heavens that she never revealed her true feelings, chooses to finally believe the things her friends said about Hecate, and thinks perhaps silence is the best option.

It hurts, offers little comfort, but the finalisation of this allows her to finally let go of the last strands of hope she had held for their friendship… or anything else. 

She doesn’t call again.


	2. Hecate

Hecate:  
Hecate can’t pretend she hasn’t thought about Pippa in the time they’ve been apart. It’s been years since the broomstick display she never attended, since they both graduated and had taken their separate paths.

Time hasn’t exactly been a healer, but it has given her the time to reflect and believe she made the right decision Pippa didn’t need her; she only held her back. Something she thought with some bitterness Pippa must have felt herself deep down.

She hadn’t known what to expect when Pippa had finally found her after her no-show, hadn’t been prepared for the amount of anger Pippa levelled at her. She’d often wondered about the reasoning behind that level of anger; it had seemed irrational simply for the fact that she hadn’t got to perform, and Hecate sighs, as she remembers the small amount of hope that had bubbled up in her at the thought that it was actually the fact that she hadn’t come that Pippa had missed her presence more than the opportunity to perform, that maybe what her friends had said, that afternoon they’d cornered her, was wrong after all, but then she’d stopped trying to talk to her altogether, gone back to socialising with that group for their final few weeks of the semester, and the hope Hecate had briefly held onto disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

She’d struggled to get through the remaining weeks and was so grateful when graduation came around, and she could escape the confines of the university, not have to see her every day. To have to fight against the urge to run up to her and explain the reasoning behind why she hadn’t gone, to apologise profusely, and try and explain the complex swirl of emotions she admitted she didn’t even understand herself.

No, it was easier to simply bury them and let Pippa and herself get on with their lives without complicating matters. She took the continued silence from Pippa, afterwards, as confirmation of the fact that, ultimately, she’d been right to sever their ties.

Pippa had every chance to be successful now without her pulling her down. Hecate had lost track of where Pippa was, they’d glimpsed each other of course at various educational conferences since they’d both graduated, but had been very good at blanking each other, and Hecate didn’t actually know where she was teaching at the moment, she could easily find out, of course, but decided it was simply better to not know. 

And now she’d learnt she had been completely right in thinking Pippa would be fine without her would thrive. It was a fact, which had been only too clearly pointed out to her in the staffroom this morning, when Miss Nightshadow had come striding into the room muttering about falling standards and had shoved a newspaper under Miss Foxsong’s nose. 

Hecate had barely suppressed an eye roll wondering what on earth had annoyed the spells teacher now, asking herself for what felt like the hundredth time if she’d made the right decision in coming here after graduating, she hadn’t been short on offers after all. 

She’d chosen Lakewood because of its traditional values, high standards and reputation, however since arriving she had to admit she was having some reservations with regard to how the pupils were handled under the guise of tradition it seemed to be being used as an excuse by a majority of the teachers to come down extremely hard on the pupils, and could even be described as cruel at times.

It really came to something when she, with what she believed to be were impeccably high standards, was seen as the bleeding heart of the group. She’d therefore steadfastly tried to ignore the conversation happening across from her, had instead pretended to be completely engrossed in what was probably the worst essay she had read in her teaching career so far.

This had worked fairly well until she’d heard Pippa’s name, and her head had shot up as she tried to get a glimpse of the paper. “Did… did you say Pippa Pentangle?” she managed to ask cursing herself for stammering slightly, as both her colleagues looked over at her slightly confused expressions adorning their faces. Miss Nightshadow had nodded “why? Friend of yours Hardbroom?” she’d asked, an almost accusatory tone in her voice, and Hecate had decided to skate around that question somewhat “she… we were at university together” she’d admitted. 

To her surprise Miss Nightshadow had seemed to take this at face value and had simply nodded “she’s opened her own school” she spat as clarification “for ‘modern witchcraft and wizardry'” she had continued, derision dripping off each word, when Hecate had been too stunned to say anything.

“To think a Pentangle flouting tradition so openly!” Miss Foxglove had added, and Hecate had nodded dumbly not really hearing the words or understanding exactly which traditions Pippa had supposedly flouted to annoy her colleagues, as she excused herself the only thought echoing around her head being 'she did it, she actually did it’. Now finally back in her own room after a full day of lessons and dealing with the night rounds she is able to read the article alone, away from the prying eyes of her colleagues. 

She takes in the photo of Pippa standing in front of her new school positively beaming and smiles ruefully at the pink robes a different cut, but always the same garish colour, and breathes a sigh of relief for the pupils, when she realises that the uniform isn’t also some loud shade of pink, although she does grimace at the cravat.

She didn’t need you, look at what she has achieved without you. She closes her eyes and tries to ignore the voices swirling around her head, tries not to think about the plans they’d had, tries to convince herself it would never have worked anyway she might be having second thoughts about Lakewood, but there is no way she could have taught there. She wasn’t as dramatic as either Miss Nightshadow or Foxsong in thinking Pippa was flouting their traditions, knew from experience how much both the Craft and Code meant to her; highly doubted that had changed in the time they had been apart, but they’d always had differing opinions on the topic of education.

Pippa was always far too lenient for her own good, and the school is co-ed for Merlin’s sake she can’t even begin to fathom how that would work. Even so she has to admire Pippa’s courage to go completely against the pedagogy norms but tries to push down the pride she feels for her; reminding herself that she has no right to share in the joy of her success after all.

Somehow however she finds herself sat at her writing desk a piece of paper pulled towards her. Desperately wants to congratulate her, because despite everything that has happened Hecate can’t stop the pride she feels for her. 

She knows a mirror call is out of the question however, she’s certain Pippa wouldn’t take one from her anyway, but even if by some miracle she does accept the call she knows she can’t trust herself to say the right things. Knows she’ll stutter over her words almost certainly dredge up emotions from the past that neither of them needs to relive. 

A letter is better, safer; she has more control over her words and emotions. But even beginning the letter, writing a greeting, knowing how to address her now, makes her stop her quill hovering over the paper.

Pipsqueak is, of course, unacceptable, and she tries to ignore the slight tightening in her chest at the memory of the nickname, even Pippa seems over-familiar considering the time and space now separating them, but she can’t bring herself to write Miss Pentangle, it seems ridiculous but it’s almost as if writing those words would cement the fact they’re now strangers, so she settles on Pippa, even if it doesn’t seem entirely proper, and stops again wondering how on earth to continue.

She tries several ways of expressing her congratulations none of which sound right and leans back eyes closed trying to think what on earth she can say without acknowledging the past. She eventually concedes it would be wrong to send the letter without an apology, a reasoning behind her decision to leave her alone by the bank of the river that day. It seems so stale, so pointless without it, and she swallows as she puts her quill down before she does just that.

Scolds herself for even thinking about it 'you burnt that bridge a long time ago’ she reminds herself, convinces herself that there is no way Pippa would want to hear an apology, a reasoning behind why, five years later.

She curses the newspaper beside her for bringing up these thoughts these feelings she’d worked so hard to bury, to forget about.

Glancing at the beginning of the letter below her she starts at how her usually perfect penmanship has become completely disjointed, marked with uncharacteristic crossing outs and obvious hesitation. Hecate sighs as she realises she’s actually no better at explaining her feelings through written words than spoken and banishes the newspaper with an irritable flick of her hand, but her hand lingers over the unfinished letter and before she can think better of it picks it up and shoves it into the back of her top drawer. 

Some things are just better left unsaid.

**Author's Note:**

> Continuation of moving all of my fics from Tumblr to here. This is the first fic I ever published so I was a debating on whether to move it over or not.


End file.
